


If You Try Sometimes

by Deannie



Series: Dreamland [2]
Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-10-17
Updated: 2004-10-17
Packaged: 2017-12-13 08:49:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deannie/pseuds/Deannie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Age isn't always an impediment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Try Sometimes

Donald Mallard knew his own body to be well past its prime. Oh, he was certainly still as handsome as most--and a good deal more handsome than some--but his face had its crags and his old hip and a general, though understandable, arthritis lent his movements a certain inelegance at times. 

Yes, Mallard knew himself to be no great catch at his age, but apparently, someone had seen something in him. 

She was tall, which was something he had always found alluring, and though she was slim, she was hardly the starved waif that seemed so popular these days--that same boy-like figure that had been looked for in girls when he was her age, in fact. No, she had a weight about her; a curving to the hips, a softness in the currently-bare breasts and shoulders... All in all, a fine-looking young woman. 

And, it seemed, very much his. 

Her long fingers, adorned by a bright red nail polish instead of her usual black (no doubt, he thought wryly, in deference to the night's festivities), ran slowly down his own bare chest, teasing here, nearly tickling there. Thick, black, glossy hair fell about her pale face and illuminated grey-blue eyes that, as always, held an energy and mischief in which he never failed to find perfection. 

The silence was decidedly warm and erotic, and he felt his muscles tensing in anticipation as she slid her hands farther and farther down his stomach, moving back from her seat on his broad hips to rest on his thighs, giving those talented digits access to his groin as they reached ever closer toward her intended goal. 

He perused her face in the welcoming quiet that was half-lit by candles placed haphazardly around the room. Soft, pale, unblemished cheeks, lips made more real and more delicious by the red gloss that matched her nails. He reached up one hand to her neck, rough pads of his fingers running down her skin, over the delicate spiderweb of ink embedded there. He smiled in satisfaction as she arched her back at his touch, a hum of pleasure thrumming through her and into him as she straddled him. 

When she finally spoke, he heard the words through a haze of passion, made more dense by her hand on his cock. 

"Relax, Ducky," she whispered, a laugh in her tone that made a certain part of his anatomy jump. She reared up, the hand now an anchor, keeping him in place for her. 

"Just lie back and think of England." 

He chuckled at the old refrain, falling as it did from the lips of so young and so beautiful a woman, then felt himself freeze as she-- 

   
The ring of the phone, bouncing loudly off of the metal doors of the freezers and cold tile of the walls, shook Ducky roughly from his sleep, and he sucked in a breath of distress. His old muscles simply weren't up to falling asleep at his desk anymore, and the dream that still lingered had made another part of him stiff in a way that it rarely was allowed to indulge in these days. 

With a sigh, he called his libido to order and reached for the phone, frowning at the pull in his shoulder as he did so. If he had ever needed proof of his advancing age, here it was. 

"Morgue." A short answer, made slightly hard by his disappointment at the interruption. 

"Hey, Duck." He stifled a whimper as Abby's voice came over the phone and the dream image of her came forcefully to mind. Her tone was worried, suddenly, even a bit guilty. "You sound busy. Should I call back later?" 

"No, Abigail," he soothed, trying to soothe himself in the process. "Of course not. I made the rare mistake of falling asleep at my desk--" 

"Well no wonder, the way Gibbs has been riding us for these results!" 

Oh, dear. Please don't say "riding," he thought dejectedly. 

"Jethro has his reasons, Abby," he assured her. "But I fear that, at my age, this sort of sleeping arrangement isn't all that kind." 

"Stiffened up, huh?" she asked innocently, unaware of the returning tightness to his scrub bottoms. "Want me to come down and work on your shoulders?" Ah, the blissful ignorance of youth! "I could use a break, anyway. Kinda why I called, actually. Figured maybe you'd want to grab a cup of coffee or something?" 

What he wanted to grab wasn't precisely on the table at the moment, and Ducky heaved a sigh that he managed to make sound long-suffering--rather than simply sexually frustrated. 

"I'm afraid I shall have to take a rain check on that, Abigail," he said finally. "I really ought never to have fallen asleep at all, if I want to get this autopsy done before the end of the day." 

The grin in Abby's voice absolutely was not helping his state of affairs (or lack of affair, as the case may be). "You're too good to him, you know," she scolded. "Gibbs needs to be taught that sometimes he can't always get want he wants, you know?" 

"Indeed." Wonderful. And now he was frustrated, behind time, and had a Rolling Stones song firmly lodged in his brain. 

"Tell you what," she continued brightly. "I'll come down with a cup of coffee for you in a few minutes, okay?" Again, the smile. "After all, we wouldn't want you falling asleep over Colonel Rupps, now would we?" 

Ducky glanced over at the decidedly messy corpse on table one. "Ah, no. No, we wouldn't want that." 

Abby gave him a chuckle. "I'll be down in a few minutes, okay?" 

Ducky held the phone a long moment after the line went dead, muttering to himself. "Unfortunately, a few minutes should be all I need to get myself back under control. At my age, it simply doesn't sustain itself the way it used to." 

True to his words, he felt his body relaxing a bit in disappointment, while that damnable song rang through his head. All right, so he couldn't always get what he wanted. 

But even with Abby as only a friend, he could always be assured of getting what he needed. 

* * * * * * * *  
The End


End file.
